@ The Young Royals
Prince Mateo of Asgard... (and possibly of Helheim?) headed straight toward the spot where Rhiannon had just been set free from her conversation with her wildling father. She didn't look upset, though, so Mateo gave the ginger a smirk of greeting. "It's been a day, huh?" For him, at least. Rhia didn't look worse for wear. The announcement had been made, about the affair-turned-marriage between his mom and (yeah...) Nathaniel. "So... Nate's my stepfather. And Heimdall's nana is hot. And your dad's bodyguard has a zombie daughter." Asgard was freaky freaky. The wolf-esque man shook his head with bewilderment.
"I'm just glad we're not tethered to a dais." On account of being bastards. Haha, Astrid and Fjolnir. And Torben. But Torben liked it, so it wasn't funny. Okami took a swig of his champagne (because fuck you, it was delicious), then quirked an eyebrow at a sudden recollection that might be prudent. "Word of warning: don't dance with Rayd until he sobers up a little. He tried to outdrink me earlier," said the son of Logan, "and you know he's all Nosferatu when he's inebriated." Sucky sucky.